Alexa took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Even if he was okay, it would be hours at best before Tim had a chance to call her. At least she would be able to stay active and put her first aid training to use. At least she would be able to do something. Anything.
Commander Fuchida ignored the steady drone of the Nakajima B5N2’s engine and looked down on Pearl Harbor. He would rather be piloting the three-man bomber instead of observing, but it was more important for him to be a spectator at this time. Let the others fly the plane and be on the lookout for American fighters.
It was difficult to see because of the height at which he was flying and the blankets of dark smoke that obscured much of the target area below. He considered flying lower, but that would only invite antiaircraft fire, and might even attract one of the few fighters the Americans had left.
From what he could tell, the final attack had been extremely successful. First, he had led somewhat more than the hundred planes he’d told Nagumo he wanted. It had proven impossible to stop all of the eager young pilots from joining him, and several of the more aggressive carrier captains had conspired in letting them join the attack.
Second, he’d been right in his tactics. The lead Zeros had quickly overwhelmed and obliterated the antiaircraft defenses that shielded both Hickam Field and the now burning oil storage tanks. He wasn’t certain about the extent of damage to the Pennsylvania and the adjacent cruisers, but he could see fires on the battleship. The Pennsylvania might not have been sunk, but she was damaged. More important, the dry docks appeared to be a burning shambles.
A handful of American fighters had tried to intercept the attack and been beaten off with substantial losses. As predicted, their attacks were uncoordinated and offered more proof that neither their pilots nor their tactics were up to Japanese standards. Most of the Americans had been shot down, with only a few losses to the Japanese air fleet. Fuchida now concluded the American planes were also inferior to the Japanese Zero. So much for the myth of American technology, he thought.
Predictably, Admiral Nagumo had lost his nerve and tried to cancel the attack. When Fuchida received the radio message, he’d first ignored it and then said it was too late-the attack had already begun. It had been a small lie but an effective one. The planes were only minutes away from Pearl and had doubtless been sighted.
As they flew over the burning harbor, the rear gunner took pictures, and Fuchida thought it was a shame they weren’t in color. The harshness of the contrast between the loveliness of the harbor and the cruelty of the fires would make a marvelous picture if only someone could capture the vivid colors.
Japanese losses had been even lighter than he’d hoped, with only a few planes falling from antiaircraft fire as they flew over Ford Island and turned westward. Fuchida genuinely felt the loss of American lives as well as those of his own men. He had planned and fought for Japan and would again, but the devastation upset him. The carnage below should not have happened. Why hadn’t America seen reason and avoided war?
Enough, he thought. Perhaps someday he’d know the answer. Fuchida promised himself that, when the war was over, he’d learn more about the United States and the beliefs of her people. What little he knew fascinated him. Perhaps he would even visit there.
But that was for later. He tapped the pilot on the shoulder and ordered a return to the fleet.
CHAPTER 2
Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto was the hero of the moment and had decided to take advantage of it. His was the dominant personality within the navy, despite the fact that he was merely the first among several equals. As admiral of the Combined Fleet, he had by far the largest portion of the seagoing navy, but he was supposed to coordinate with entities within the naval hierarchy, many of whom seemed to have their own agendas. Yamamoto also reported directly to the naval chief of staff, Admiral Osami Nagano. So far, Nagano had proven easy for Yamamoto to dominate.
More than once Yamamoto had thought Japan was as likely to be defeated in the new war by her own byzantine bureaucratic mazes as by American industry and military strength. Japan was run by the military, but cooperation between the army and the navy was almost nonexistent.
For that reason, Admiral Yamamoto had asked for a private audience with the prime minister, General Hideki Tojo. If he could convince Tojo of the rightness of his idea, then Tojo would convince the others. It was irregular, but he felt the circumstances required it. As the hero of the moment, he knew he could bend protocol to the extent of having a private discussion with the prime minister, who was also the army minister. He had, of course, informed Admiral Nagano, who had given his discreet blessing to the mission. If Yamamoto was turned down, Nagano could then plausibly deny having encouraged him.
Yamamoto had managed to make the appointment within hours of hearing of the totality of the victory at Pearl Harbor. His dreams of victory had always been tempered by the realistic assessment that he would lose two of their priceless carriers and much of his airpower in destroying the American fleet at Pearl Harbor. When that did not happen, he realized that a new door had opened for Japan. At fifty-seven, Isoroku Yamamoto also knew that he personally had only a few remaining opportunities to influence the course of Japan’s history.
Leaving his aides with a whirlwind of tasks, Yamamoto had flown from the naval base at Hiroshima to Tokyo and arrived early the morning after the attack. He was alone and incognito. This was not the time to draw attention to himself. As a further concession, Tojo had agreed to meet with him at the prime minister’s residence.
Tojo greeted Yamamoto warmly, even exuberantly. After all, hadn’t the admiral given Japan the greatest naval victory since the victory over the Russians at Tsushima in 1905? Perhaps Pearl Harbor was even greater than that now legendary victory. Coincidentally, a very young Yamamoto had been present at Tsushima and lost two fingers from a shell fragment.
“General,” Yamamoto began, “I have requested this meeting because I wish to make a substantial change in our strategy regarding the Americans.”
Tojo turned serious. “Let me guess. You now wish to invade Hawaii.”
“Correct.”
“But why? You were against both that and the attack on Pearl Harbor. So was I until I recognized the need for it.”
“General, I based my opposition to attacking the American fleet on the fact that it would arouse a sleeping giant, the United States. We have no way of countering her industrial might. Remember, please, that I have been to America and toured her factories in Pittsburgh and Detroit, and we have nothing to compare with them.
“I said that we would run wild for six months to a year, and then I said I could not guarantee what would happen thereafter. The Americans have been constructing a vast fleet that could overwhelm us in a year or two at the most if peace is not arrived at.”
“I know,” Tojo said grimly. “Our strategy subsequent to attacking the United States was to be so solid defensively that any attempt at conquering us would be too expensive for them. It was also decided that Hawaii was outside the limits of our defensive perimeter, because it would be too expensive for us to conquer and hold. Admiral, what has changed your mind?”
“Simply put, the defenses at Pearl Harbor and the rest of Hawaii were far weaker than we believed and are now nonexistent. We can take and hold Hawaii, and the United States will not be able to use it as a forward staging area for assaults on Japan. Any attacks will have to come from California or Australia. I’m also sure that, as prime minister, you can see any number of diplomatic reasons for our holding Hawaii.”
“Of course. But the Americans will immediately bring reinforcements to Hawaii, won’t they?”
“They can’t,” Yamamoto said simply.
“What?”
“They have no fuel. They cannot bring ships or planes to Pearl Harbor because they cannot resupply them with fuel. The final attack on Pearl destroyed the American oil reserves. These cannot be made up, at least not for quite some time. In my opinion, they will have to send
their fleet, including the carriers that escaped us, to either Australia or California.”
“I don’t understand. Ships and planes go to Hawaii all the time.”
“Certainly,” Yamamoto conceded, “but many of the ships need oil to get back, and all of the planes need to refuel. Under the current circumstances, any attempt by the United States Navy to reinforce Pearl would result in a graveyard of fuel-starved ships. Few, if any, major ships have the ability to travel such distances and return without refueling. Please recall that Nagumo’s fleet required midocean refueling in order to attack Pearl Harbor.”
“Can’t they use tankers, as we did?”
“Yes, but not until they accumulate a sufficient number to make an impact. I am convinced they will begin to repair the facilities at Pearl fairly quickly, so haste is of the essence.”
Tojo was intrigued. He leaned back and smiled. “Then won’t they reinforce their army? If we believe both their propaganda and our intelligence, they have more than thirty thousand soldiers on Oahu.”
“General, many of that number will be useless mouths in the event of an assault. Thousands are tied up in coastal batteries, administration, and, of course, maintaining an air force that no longer exists, and the remainder are simply not combat ready, despite their claims to the contrary. When we attack, we will totally dominate the air and the sea. American numbers will be irrelevant. As to their reinforcing the army, it will not happen for the same reason that the navy will not make the attempt. The lack of oil will deter them. I am convinced that the United States will not make any attempt to strengthen or enlarge their defenses on Oahu until they have the capability to store fuel for their planes and ships.”
Tojo rubbed his chin. “And when will they be able to do that?”
“My engineers feel it will take them at least three months to repair the depot, and several months after that to accumulate a sufficient quantity of oil to support a fleet.”
Tojo leaned forward. “And why will we be able to succeed in using Pearl as a base when the Americans cannot?”
“General, both mentally and physically we are prepared for war and they are not. We have the necessary tankers and they do not. And, finally, we can make the repairs much more quickly because we will be able to pour engineers into the area and use indigenous labor, even prisoners, to hasten the reconstruction.”
“It is intriguing,” Tojo said with a smile. “Yet so much is happening now. The Philippines have been attacked, as have Malaya and Hong Kong. Other campaigns are beginning or about to begin all over the Pacific. There is a timetable of conquest in place, and you are asking for it to be changed. It could result in chaos.”
“Yes,” Yamamoto replied solemnly. “But I would not request it if I didn’t think it was so very important. Remember when I said we would run wild for six months to a year? Well, the conquest of Hawaii could extend that estimate to years, perhaps decades. Perhaps”-he smiled grimly-”forever.”
“Do you have plans?” Tojo asked, and then he threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Of course you do.”
Yamamoto grinned back. “Nothing final, of course, but enough to show that it is more than feasible. It is an enormous opportunity to ensure the security of Japan.”
Tojo nodded. It was indeed intriguing, but there were other complications that could preclude such an operation. For one thing, the United States was at war only with Japan. While he had been assured that Germany would support Japan by declaring war on America, this had not yet happened. If the full force of American might was thrown against Japan, Yamamoto’s navy would be on the defensive far sooner than anticipated, whether Japan held Hawaii or not. Germany had to declare war so that the Americans would be compelled to fight a two-front war.
Additionally, he would have to deal with the fear that Japan’s generals had of Russia. The Soviets were considered to be the far greater threat to Japan’s security and had massed forces along the Siberian-Manchukuo border. However, everything indicated that the Russians were totally preoccupied with keeping Hitler out of Moscow. If the Germans declared war on America, and if the Soviets stayed out of it, then the seizure of Hawaii was indeed feasible.
“I will meet with my generals,” Tojo said. “If forces are to be made available, they will probably have to come from those in reserve in Japan, or from other areas, such as China or Manchukuo. We cannot jeopardize ongoing operations to facilitate your endeavor.”
Yamamoto nodded. “I am confident that no more than one reinforced division or its equivalent will be necessary, and the navy will provide both shipping and marines to lead the assault. It is not a great requirement at all. Our total domination of the air will eliminate any need for overwhelming ground strength. Add to that the fact that many of Oahu’s targets are within the range of naval gunfire, and we will be able to obliterate their defenses.”
Tojo was impressed and found himself exhilarated at the prospect. “We will meet in a day or two,” he said.
At the request of his superiors in army intelligence, Captain Jake Novacek had completed a tour of the damage to the naval facilities and had also been on the lookout for any evidence of possible sabotage. There was none, of course. All damage had come from the skies. He did not think it unusual that he would be asked to confirm what the navy might say about the damage to the fleet. That one service might evade, or even lie, in dealing with another was a given. In situations like this, it was human nature to try to gloss over failure, and the army needed an accurate report to enable it to commence its own plans. That the army would lie to the navy about the extent of its own losses was another given.
Jake was stunned and sickened by the devastation. Which horror was worse? The sunken and shattered ships settling in the harbor or the long rows of casualties, most of whom lay in uncomplaining silence despite their horrible burns and wounds? Saddest of all were the bodies that had been sewn into mattress covers. Many of them were burned or shattered beyond recognition and would never be identified.
As a result, Jake was physically and mentally exhausted by the time he was done. It was the evening of December 8, and he’d barely been able to grab an hour’s sleep since the fateful morning of the day before.
He had stopped to talk with the guards at the gates to the naval base and was just about to drive through them and down the road to his apartment in Honolulu and a long overdue shower when he heard his name.
“Captain Novacek, may I talk to you?”
A woman was standing in the shadows outside the gate, where he couldn’t quite recognize her. “Ma’am?”
“Captain,” one of the guards said, “it’s Mrs. Sanderson. She’s been out there for a couple of hours.”
Sanderson? Did he know anyone named Sanderson? His groggy mind refused to kick in for a moment. Of course. He’d played touch with Tim Sanderson just a couple of days earlier and had met his wife at a party following the Army-Navy Game of November 29. God, he was more tired than he thought if he couldn’t recall meeting someone like Tim’s wife only a week earlier.
Jake parked his car and walked over to the woman. She was distraught, although she was doing an admirable job of keeping herself under control.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sanderson, I didn’t recognize you right away.”
“That’s all right,” she said with a forced calmness. “I need a favor from you.”
“What is it?” he asked warily.
“I want to see the Oklahoma.”
Jake sagged. He recalled that Tim was on the ship that lay virtually upside down alongside Ford Island.
“Captain, Tim has not come home, and there’s been no word of him. I’ve seen the ship from the hill, and I’ve heard horrible things about what’s happening. I want to see if they’re true, Captain. I want to see where Tim might be.”
“Mrs. Sanderson, I will not take you there for the simple reason that the navy will not allow me there either. Yes, it is true there are people trapped in the ship, but the navy is moving heaven and earth to
get them out.”
Jake saw the woman bite her lower lip and turn her head away. He hadn’t the heart to tell her that he had been by the devastated battleship, and it was a nightmare. Sailors were trapped in the ship, and the sounds of their clanging against the armored hull served as beacons for those who were desperately trying to drill through and rescue them. He couldn’t begin to imagine the nightmarish conditions in the pitch black of an overturned battleship.
Several sounds from within the hull had already ceased as air must have run out of the pockets in which men were trapped. Farther away, other sailors and workers played their radios loudly in order to drown out the agonies of the incessant pounding. If Tim Sanderson was trapped in the Oklahoma, then God help him.
Jake had been truthful when he’d said the navy was trying desperately to save the trapped men. As the hours dragged on, however, it was becoming a losing battle.
Jake asked where she lived, and she told him. She added that a neighbor had dropped her off. When he offered to drive her home, she almost pathetically said not to bother.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Sanderson, your place is on the way to Shafter and pretty near mine.”
With that, she demurred, and they drove in silence to her home. When they arrived, Missy Wilson walked up with her young child sleeping in her arms.
“I’ll take care of her,” Missy said after hearing that nothing had come of Alexa’s vigil by the base. She took Alexa by the arm and led her into the house. Alexa neither resisted nor complained. To Jake it seemed that she was beyond feeling.
Jake shook his head in sadness. He had met Tim’s wife only once before and been struck by her poise and patrician good looks. She was the type of woman he would never have otherwise met if it hadn’t been for the weekly football games.
Football? God, he thought, was the world ever that innocent? As he headed back to his car, another vehicle pulled up and a grim-faced naval lieutenant emerged.
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